


Celestial Bodies (And the Motions Thereof)

by Euterpein



Series: Pride Wives 2020 [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Performance Art, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: In the slightly more than two thousand years since the world didn't end, Crowley and Aziraphale have enjoyed following humanity on their slow crawl across the universe. On the Martian colony of New Eden, Aziraphale enjoys the gifts human ingenuity continues to give while Crowley puts on onehellof a show.-----------She looked like a statue. Like carved marble, motionless and serene, the perfect vision of an unseen creator made flesh. She looked just like the woman Aziraphale had been in love with for nearly eight thousand years, and also like nothing Aziraphale had ever seen.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Pride Wives 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769128
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23
Collections: Pride Wives 2020





	Celestial Bodies (And the Motions Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning notes: Written for week three of the Ineffable Wives server’s Pride Wives 2020 event! Week three’s prompt was “Drag Show.” 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [Jamgrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamgrl/pseuds/jamgrl) for the beta!

The venue was by far the largest and most ostentatious in the entertainment district. It sat in the very center, just under the apex of the dome, a large circular stage surrounded by rows of chairs that radiated outwards and were interspersed with sections of clustered tables. The lights which maintained the day/night cycle had been switched off for the evening and the stars could be seen twinkling merrily beyond the translucent barrier of the dome. This breathtaking sight was complemented by that of the other domes rising up around them, resting like fluorescent bubbles on the red soil all around them.

Music that seemed to come from everywhere at once rattled the chair legs against the floor, creating an odd secondary beat of plastic clattering against metal that underpinned the baseline surprisingly well. It was so loud, it nearly drowned out the drone of the large crowd of people that were scattered throughout the venue. Some of them milled about the strategically placed drink dispensers or sat in the rows of chairs, claiming the best seats for themselves, while yet others sat at the staffed tables. They were talking and laughing, a buzz of excitement palpable in the air. 

Aziraphale paused at the outskirts of the hubbub, taking it all in for just a moment. Events like this were always a mixture of wonderful and overwhelming to her. The joy in the air was sweet nectar to her angelic senses, but the sheer numbers of bodies pressed in together could overtake her if she wasn't mindful. She breathed deeply for a few moments, letting herself adjust to the concentrated humanity around her, then glanced around. 

After a few seconds of scanning, she spotted a large section near the stage that had been cordoned off for the guests of the performers. She hurried over to it, pushing her way through the tight crowd, sending off a series of small miracles to prevent the humans' drinks from spilling as she shoved them aside as politely as possible. When she reached the section, she pressed her palm to the biometric check-in pad on its little stand and waited for her AROIPs to kick in1. After a moment a ghostly light lifted from the floor, little pulses shooting along its length to show her which direction she was to go. She followed the floor guide through the maze of packed tables until she reached a large one with four people already seated around it.

She smiled at them as she took the last open seat, sighing with pleasure as the aural interference buffer emanating from the control unit at the center of the table settled over her. The music immediately dimmed to a level where she could once again hear herself think and, hopefully, hear her table mates speak as well. 

"I'm very sorry I'm late," She told the table at large, "there was a bit of a holdup on the tube over from our dome. I'm Aziraphale, Crowley's wife. Lovely to meet you."

The person next to her--man next to her, as the ident-ring at his ear told her 2\--gave a wide, warm smile. "I'm Taban," he said, reaching out a hand to shake hers. She exchanged polite introductions with the others around the table before putting in an order for wine with the control unit. Taban, who seemed to be the most outgoing of the bunch, turned back to her. "I have to say, it's good to finally put a face to all the stories." 

Aziraphale raised her eyebrows. "Stories? Oh dear, what has that old serpent been telling you?" 

There was a round of giggles at that, and Taban's smile only widened. "Only good things, I promise."

One of the others, Vanessa, piped up from across the table. "We like to get her going on you 'cause she gets too distracted to boss us around when she talks about you." She winked at Aziraphale, conspiratorially, which made the angel blush slightly. 

“Plus then she makes that dopey face when she thinks we’re not looking,” one of the others said. “It’s adorable.” 

“Well don’t tell her wife!” Taban looked horrified. “Crowley’ll _murder_ us if she finds out.”

Aziraphale giggled. She wiggled happily in her seat with the knowledge that the thought of her still distracted her demon at work, even after all this time. 

"Well, I shan't tell her," Aziraphale promised. "Your secret is safe with me." The rest of them beamed at her.

A waiter appeared very briefly with a bottle of wine, one of the latest colony-grown varieties to age into drinkability, and the rest of the table drifted off into a conversation about work. Aziraphale mostly tuned it out. There was a lot of talk about some kind of plant and its “perchlorate tolerance,” as well as other terms that Aziraphale didn’t have the context or patience for. Instead she leaned back and listened to their excitable chatter with a small smile on her face, sipping at her wine. Seeing humans so passionate about little things always reminded her why she had given so much to save them once upon a time. 

After a little while, the standing lamps placed throughout the crowd dimmed in warning, announcing the show’s imminent beginning. Aziraphale and the others shuffled their seats around the table to better face the stage. Taban reached over to disengage the aural interference buffer just as the music faded away to be replaced by an unseen announcer’s booming voice:

“Residents and guests of New Eden Colony, welcome!” There was a pause for the crowd to cheer, hollars of elation and pride which reverberated all around the dome. “Tonight we have for you some of our humble settlement’s best and brightest entertainers, here to tease and titillate and rock you _all_ night long. Please welcome, _Celestial Bodies!_ ”

The crowd erupted into applause again as a pounding rhythm started up all around them. A disc at the center of the stage seemed to melt away and a platform lifted from the space left behind, bearing a woman who smiled around at the crowd. Spotlights from the dome above flashed on and made her red, sequined dress and matching feathered headpiece glitter spectacularly. She moved with the music, still grinning and waving at the crowd, then took in a deep breath and began to sing. The crowd gasped appreciatively as flames appeared to burst forth beneath her feet. Her voice was deep and brassy and her movements purposeful as she tracked the illusory flame along with her about the stage, singing about someone that had broken her heart. Aziraphale gasped and sighed as much as the rest of them as the song went on, thinking almost wistfully about what Shakespeare or Wilde would have given to have AROIPs around while they were producing plays. The performance came to a close with an impassioned finale that ended in the virtual flames engulfing the woman as she belted out her last heartfelt line. She took a bow, panting and beaming, as the crowd erupted into frenzied applause, and was lowered down again via the platform at the center of the stage.

After the fiery performer came an extremely talented young drag king who executed feats of impressive acrobatic skill while lip-synching, and who was in turn followed by a group of three queens that parodied the three witches from Macbeth in a way that Aziraphale felt was quite inspired. Aziraphale enjoyed herself immensely through these and all the succeeding performances. She had always preferred live theatre, relished the special element that a living, breathing audience brought to an experience, and though the times had changed significantly that particular preference had not. Still, as the night wore on she found herself holding her breath for the performance she was _really_ here for. 

Finally, the lights dimmed again. An excited whispering rippled out like a wave, starting near the stage and spreading like wildfire throughout the crowd. The announcer’s voice boomed out once more: 

“Thank you all for coming out to enjoy the show tonight! We have one more performer for the evening, and we think you’re gonna like ‘em. Please welcome to the stage... _Dark Angel!_ ” 

Applause broke out again as the lights blinked out entirely. A ball of light appeared a second later in the center of the stage. It was a miniature sun, burning white-hot, turning gently. Tiny bursts of solar plasma flashed hypnotically at its edges for a few moments before it exploded suddenly outwards. Everyone gasped as the sun flashed brilliantly, spreading out in a blinding, rushing shockwave, rolling harmlessly over the crowd. It left behind thousands of tiny twinkling lights throughout the crowd, casting a pale glow over the faces of the audience.

It took a few moments for the crowd to register that, in all the hubbub, a woman had appeared on the stage, lit by a single beam of light from above. 

“Wow,” Taban whispered. He sounded awestruck. “That’s--”

“Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. It was Crowley. She looked... _ethereal_. Aziraphale’s breath hitched and her head spun, just looking at the vision on the stage.

Crowley was standing stock-still. Her hands were stretched out in front of her, palms turned upwards to the light as if in supplication. Or prayer. Her face looked into the middle distance, eyes unfocused and empty. To Aziraphale, who had grown used to seeing that face lit up with all sorts of wonderful expressions, the effect was positively chilling. 

Crowley was wearing a robe very much akin to the one she had worn in Eden, or at Golgotha, but this one was much finer than any that had existed then. It _flowed_ across her, silk like water, draping from her outstretched hands to just brush the floor in wisps. Her wrists were encircled by golden snake bracelets which twisted up her arms, disappearing under the sleeves of the robe. The copper curls she so often put up and away these days now cascaded down her shoulders from the robe’s hood.

Perhaps most striking of all, though, was the fact that her wings and eyes were both visible. Her _real_ ones, though of course the humans didn't know that. Her wings were poised in a high arc behind her, tipped ever so slightly as if she were about to take flight. 

She looked like a statue. Like carved marble, motionless and serene, the perfect vision of an unseen creator made flesh. She looked just like the woman Aziraphale had been in love with for nearly eight thousand years, and also like nothing Aziraphale had ever seen. 

The whispers of surprise and admiration that had fluttered up when she first appeared died down again quickly, leaving absolute silence to reign for a full minute. Then, a beat from the dark. It wasn't the heavy, synthetic beat of the music that had been common in the last two thousand years or so, but rather the simple sound of a single hand falling rhythmically against stretched skin. 

The drum beat pounded like a heartbeat and yet Crowley remained still, as if unhearing, eyes forwards and blank. Another instrument was added, perhaps a reed or a pan flute, picking up a delicate melody over the beat. 

Finally, Crowley blinked. Her blank expression fell minutely into one of confusion, and she darted her eyes from side to side as if looking for the source of the music. Her arms trembled a little, obviously weary from being held up to the sky for so long. Crowley lowered them to her sides slowly as she grew more unsure, less steady, turning in wonder as if mesmerized by the swell of the music around her. The air of impermeability she’d been exuding slipped easily from her shoulders as she seemed to come alive.

Then, hesitantly, Crowley moved. One foot came forward. The other. A delicate, almost childlike twirl. A short leap, a longer one, and Crowley laughed suddenly with the sheer joy of the movement. 

Aziraphale looked on breathlessly. Crowley had refused to tell her anything about the routine she had chosen, insisting it was a surprise, and Aziraphale could see why. Seeing Crowley in those robes again made something ache deep in her chest. The spotlight followed Crowley through the sea of twinkling stars as her stumbling movements became smoother, more rhythmic, flowing effortlessly into the steps of a dance that had not been seen by humans since they had migrated out of the Fertile Crescent. The music sped up and became more complex. A stringed instrument was added, then two, and a more diverse drum section offered a curious off-beat rhythm matched by the swing of Crowley’s hips. 

Crowley tucked into a spin, and the crowd gasped again. Her robes changed as she whirled around, seeming to dissolve and morph before their very eyes until they were in a completely different style. The sleeves and hemline were shortened. Strappy, gold, Greek-style sandals were revealed at her feet, complimenting the gold snakes that apparently wound all the way up to her shoulders on both sides. The music also took a decided turn towards the Greek, then Celtish, and on. With each shift, Crowley’s outfit and the steps of her dance changed right along with it, flowing from one era into the next in a way that should have been jarring but for its flawless execution. 

Aziraphale gasped when Crowley shifted into the robes she had worn at the little bar in Rome. The little crown of leaves and the odd, circular pendant were exactly as she remembered, making Aziraphale sigh a little with the memory. As she was watching, though, she realized that something was niggling at her and frowned. Crowley’s steps were sure and her movements fluid, but there was something _disjointed_ about the whole thing, and it was beyond the strangeness of the different eras blending together. When the music changed yet again into a distinctive Byzantine tune and Crowley moved into a little bow, it hit her. These weren’t just dances from different periods, they were _partner’s_ dances. Crowley was embodying one half of two-person dances throughout the ages, mirroring an invisible partner, while all alone in the endless, inky blackness all around her. 

Aziraphale felt as though all the air had been punched out of her lungs. 

Crowley danced on, oblivious. Her skirt got shorter, then longer, then shorter again, as she waltzed and two-stepped and mirror-danced in circles across the stage. All the while her face expressed a kind of quiet joy; happy to be moving, to be freed from the stiff and unchanging posture she had held at the beginning, but with a soft lilt to it that almost spoke of longing.

The music moved on. Brass came on the scene and Crowley’s movements grew sultry, almost filthy, her hips working short grinding motions in midair. Aziraphale swallowed. She had long ago developed a Pavlovian reaction to _that_ particular motion. 

Then, out of nowhere, the music cut out. Crowley stumbled mid-twist and screeched to a halt. Her dress had shifted to mimic the military-style uniform common in England in the very early years of the twentieth century, though the snakes, wings, and eyes were unchanged. She stood catching her breath for a moment. Then, she turned around.

There was a collective gasp, not the least of which was from Aziraphale. On the other side of the stage stood a second figure. It was indistinct, ghostly and barely there, made up entirely of an ethereal white light that cast a soft glimmer onto Crowley’s face. Crowley just looked at it for a moment. She reached out a trembling hand and the figure did the same, hesitantly, as if afraid of what might happen. Their fingers closed the distance and brushed ever so slightly, just a whisper of a touch. Crowley beamed. The music kicked in again, even brighter and louder and more energetic than before, and Crowley turned into a near blur as she spun with the figure around and around the stage. 

The ghostly figure followed Crowley as she twisted and turned, but always seemed to be one or two steps behind. It lent an odd, lopsided feeling to the whole thing. Crowley didn’t seem to mind. The music pushed forward again, blending decades and centuries into each other seamlessly, moving faster as it went along. The figure in white grew brighter and more distinct as the music spun with them through the years, though it never fully manifested, and never seemed able to match Crowley’s speed.

Crowley’s smile also grew. It wasn’t impeded when the music turned towards the distinctive funk of the 60’s. It didn’t falter when the unmistakable beats of Queen overtook all the others. It didn’t so much as flicker as the twentieth century gave over to the twenty-first, and Aziraphale knew it was the time when the apocalypse would have been hanging over both their heads. Through all the years Aziraphale knew Crowley had been afraid, had been in pain, still the Crowley before her only grinned. 

Finally, Crowley herself brought the dance to a halt. She stood and looked at the figure of light, smiling softly, waiting. With little ado the figure seemed to resolve itself, and Aziraphale gasped once again. Standing on the stage was a perfect replica of Aziraphale herself, dressed in the fussy waistcoat and trousers she had favored at that point in history, still glowing gently. The illusory Aziraphale was gazing at Crowley with all the intensity and love the real Aziraphale was feeling from her place in the audience. Crowley reached out once again, tentatively. This time, the other Azirpahale didn’t hesitate. It pulled Crowley into itself and held her close. The music continued to shift and change around the pair as they danced in slow, unhurried circles, spinning and stepping to their own rhythm while the universe spun on around them. This time, they were perfectly in step.

Aziraphale became aware that her vision had turned blurry. She blinked and hot tears rolled down her cheeks, her heart full. She wanted so badly to be up there with Crowley, to replace the illusory Aziraphale with the real one, to feel the warmth of her wife in her arms once again.

Eventually, the music spun on to something recognizable from the last few years. Crowley pulled away from the illusory Aziraphale and fell to her knees. The stars that had spread throughout the dome moved towards the pair, sluggishly at first, then with speed. Crowley moved to kiss the fake Aziraphale’s hand and the stars collapsed inwards, compressing themselves into the very spot where Crowley’s lips pressed into light. The illusion smiled down on her, softly. It glowed brighter with the light of the stars that Crowley bestowed upon it. Then, it disappeared. 

The crowd erupted.

Applause rang out across the dome as Crowley clambered to her feet, back in her normal clothes. She seemed almost dazed for a few seconds, as though she had forgotten where she was, but smiled widely at the crowd that crowded around the edges of the stage. 

Aziraphale couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Tears in her eyes, she pushed through the throng of applauding people and up to the stage, her body moving almost without her input or permission. A small miracle ensured there was a small set of stairs for her to stumble up onto the stage when she made it over. Crowley whirled around when she spotted the movement out of the corner of her eye, halting when she saw Aziraphale. They stood like that, staring dumbly at each other, completely unaware of the world around them for a solid few seconds. Then, Aziraphale moved towards her at exactly the same time Crowley’s feet carried her forward. They crashed together as they had millennia ago, had at the end of the world, had every moment since. Aziraphale kissed her with a burning fervor, more love than she could stand flowing out and over and into Crowley with every desperate movement. 

“I love you,” she said, when she had to pull back for air. It seemed too simplistic for the gift she had just been given, for the gifts she enjoyed every day from this (for lack of a better word) divine creature before her, but it was the only thing she seemed capable of thinking at the moment. 

Crowley softened, as she always did. “I love you too, angel.”

The roar of the crowd brought them back out of their little bubble. Aziraphale blushed, not nearly as accustomed to the limelight as Crowley was, tucking herself to her wife’s side while her face burned hot in sudden embarrassment. She caught sight of Taban and the others from the side of the stage. They were all grinning maniacally, waving towards them, and she grinned back at them shyly.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how she had gotten this lucky. She wasn’t sure what deeds she had committed in the eyes of the Almighty to grant her this supreme bliss. Whatever she had done, though, it had most definitely been worth it. 

The two of them took a final bow, hands clasped, hearts beating as one. 

1\. Augmented Reality Optical Information Processors Back

2\. Earrings whose intricate loops and whorls indicated the wearer's pronouns, as well as their partner preferences when applicable. Aziraphale’s, as an example, would have expressed to an observer something along the lines of "She/her, married, not looking for partners, thank you." It shouldn't technically have been possible for an ident-ring to express a sentiment like "thank you," but Aziraphale’s managed it anyway. Back

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this was borrowed from a far future AU that I’ve been wanting to write for a long time but haven’t gotten around to yet. Let me know if that’s something you’d be into I guess??


End file.
